


Nothing but the Rain

by afrakaday



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Gen, New Caprica, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-02
Updated: 2013-10-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:59:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrakaday/pseuds/afrakaday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://womenverse.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://womenverse.livejournal.com/"></a><b>womenverse</b> Challenge No. 8, “Rainy Days”<br/></p>
    </blockquote>





	Nothing but the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://womenverse.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://womenverse.livejournal.com/)**womenverse** Challenge No. 8, “Rainy Days”  
> 

I can’t hear much of the world outside, here in this facsimile of my old apartment on Caprica, but when it rains--and it rains on this frakkin’ planet a lot--the place feels a little less fake.

_What do you hear, Starbuck?_

_Nothing but the rain._

Space rain, the sound of the nothingness of space slipping past the hull of a ship. Ascribing peculiar noises to external events other than enemy attacks grounds us pilots in a good way, you know?

The rain outside is the real thing. Droplets of water against slate roof--or whatever this place is made of.

It’s comforting, but it can also take me back to a place I’d wanted to forget long before the Cylons nuked it to hell.

_I look around me; the handlike leaves of the trees in the park are turning inside-out, a warning confirming what the dark clouds overhead have already told me._

_I don’t want to go home. Socrata is angry, told me to get out. I like it here at the park._

_Usually I can find some kids to play with. But the last ones left at least twenty minutes ago, the mom loading the little kids into a wide double stroller and the two older ones walking alongside._

_My skin prickles as the wind picks up. I wrap my jacket around me tight and begin to walk home, torn between running from the storm and dawdling toward that unhappy place._

_When I get there the door’s been deadbolted from the inside. I know my key won’t work, but I try anyway._

_A clap of thunder sounds nearby, startling me into dropping my key. I don’t even think about banging on the door._

_My small body slides easily under the rotting wood of the front stoop, where I wait out the storm with the spiders and try not to cry when the lightning illuminates the dirt streaks across my pink windbreaker and the sinuous threads covering concrete slabs._

_Even this is better than inside with her._

Even that was better than this.


End file.
